


Sniffles

by TheMulletWhisperer



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Caretaking, Drama, F/F, Fluff, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 05:17:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13710648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMulletWhisperer/pseuds/TheMulletWhisperer
Summary: Shepard is dying, and is determined to say goodbye to Samantha before she passes. Except not really.





	Sniffles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DefaultJane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefaultJane/gifts).



> I'm gifting this to DefaultJane because she made me finish this.

“My life is over. I can’t stress that enough. I’m sorry Sam, you’ll have to go on without me.” Jane clutched her stomach, black framing her vision and a cold chill washing over her. All at once, somewhere in the distance, a light flickered on, cutting through that black and blinding her. “I can see a light, Sam. I’m sorry, I loved you… so much.” She took a shuddering breath before everything went black, still, and cold.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Sam stood at the foot of the couch, watching Shepard whine and moan. “You’re so dramatic.” She rolled her eyes as Jane began giving a speech, stepping over and flicking the overhead light on in an attempt to snap her out of it. Nevertheless, it didn’t seem to do much good, as she switched gears into ‘going towards the light’, before slumping like a sack of rocks and instantly snoring loud enough to shake the foundations of the apartment.

Traynor couldn’t help but laugh and shake her head, grabbing the cold medicine from the table and screwing the cap back on. The illustrious Commander had never really been able to handle illness very well. Gunshots, stab wounds, shrapnel, all of those things she shook of without a second thought, but she treated the common cold like the end of the universe as she knew it. The specialist flicked the light back off, grabbing the blanket she’d kicked off in a fit of ‘pain’ and tucking her love in up to the neck.

“Garrus, you can come out now!” At the call, the brave, fearless Turian stood up from behind the couch, staring at Sam with a flick of his mandibles.

“Is it safe? Is she dead?” He leaned over and peered around the corner, trying to catch a glimpse of Shepard’s ‘body’. “She sounds terrifying when she’s sick like that. It sounds pretty bad, why don’t you have a cure yet?” He pulled his head back as the Commander shifted, snorting wetly.

“Because it builds character, that’s why. You should probably get out of here, you know, before the sickness takes her mind over and she eats your face.” Sam mimicked a cheesy zombie, holding her arms out in front of her and walking towards Garrus with locked knees, gnashing her teeth and letting her head go limp.

“Very funny, Specialist.” Despite his facade, he seemed slightly worried, even more so when she didn’t stop. “Seriously, you can stop now. I get it.” Yet again, she didn’t stop, and he began to back up slowly. “Specialist!” He shouted, trying to get her attention, before turning tail and sprinting from the room. “I’m going to be back with help!” He shouted over his shoulder to a Sam who was barely able to keep her laughter contained.

The humor of the situation was quickly quenched as Traynor heard her name called from the other side of the apartment. Before she had any time to turn around, the voice called again, whiny as a child’s and insistent. Rounding the corner of the divider, she looked upon an awoken Shepard, her head propped up on the arm of the couch.

“Yes?” Sam insisted, raising a brow and resting her hands on her hips. Several seconds of silence passed between the two, as Shepard stared at Traynor with cloudy eyes, and Traynor stared back with… eyes. After what felt like minutes, Sam spoke up again, “Jane?”

Instantly, the Commander grunted out a “Huh?” before going right back to staring at her lover confusedly, the combination of the sickness and the medicine knocking her mind out of action better than any Reaper could and rendering her mostly incapable of holding a train of thought.

“What did you want?” Sam took a step closer, waving one of her hands in front of Shepard’s face. Once again, things fell silent as the two exchanged stares, though it was shorter than the first time.

“...Hi.” Shepard mumbled, reaching up and wiping her face with a limp hand.

Traynor gave her a hard stare, “Is that what you wanted from me?”

“No.” Shepard stated simply, shaking her head in the most pathetic way Sam had ever seen. “I’m hungry.” Unlike the great Commander Shepard she usually was, carrying a powerful and inspiring voice even when she was filled with bullets, she sounded like a patient dying of a terminal plague.

“You  _ just  _ ate, literally less than an hour ago.” Sam motioned to the fresh plate on the table next to the couch, the flashing lights of the muted  _ Blasto _ movie dancing over the white porcelain. 

“But… I’m hungry  _ now _ .” Jane insisted with the infallible logic of a kindergartener. 

“Ugh, fine. What do you want?” The Specialist sighed and looked back toward the kitchen, rubbing the back of her head as she tried to think of something herself.

“Mmmn… hungry” was the only response Sam got. Without any direction, she had to carve out her own path, retreating to the kitchen and rifling through the refrigerator as quickly as possible, before Jane passed out again. Looking upon the various microwave meals, fresh ingredients, raw steak, and other schizophrenic meal choices, she eventually settled on leftover sushi from their previous date night. Figuring that Shepard wouldn’t notice, she simply grabbed a fork from the drawer and stabbed it into one of the rolls, carrying it back around the divider and to the couch.

“Here you go.” She chirped out, doing her best to sound happy despite how little sleep she’d gotten. And, of course, to nobody’s surprise, Shepard had since passed out, hanging off one side of the cough with the blanket tangled around her legs. “Well… sweet dreams then, love.” She smiled and placed the plate down on the table, just in time for the doorbell tone to ring. “Oh God, what now?” She muttered, turning back and heading to the door, accepting the entry request without even bothering to look at the camera.

All at once, a team of armed C-Sec officers and Alliance soldiers poured into the room with a hazardous materials team, startling Sam into jumping back and nearly knocking over a bookcase. “What is going on?!” She shouted, as one of the soldiers trained their weapons on her.

“We’ve received a report about a hostile contagion in this apartment.” He spoke through his rebreather, gripping his gun so hard that his proverbial knuckles turned white. “Are you Specialist Traynor?” He appended, as if he’d just remembered what he was supposed to say.

“Oh for the love of… Listen, my girlfriend has a  _ cold _ , Garrus thought she had some sort of deadly virus. Nobody is hostile here except for me, if you wake her up.” Traynor hissed, pointing towards the door. Despite barely ever having seen combat, the fire in her eyes told the squad that she  _ would  _ kill them if anyone woke Shepard up.

“Uh… right. Sorry to bother you, ma’am.” Looking slightly embarrassed, the C-Sec sergeant motioned everyone out of the apartment, making certain they kept as quiet as possible on their way out.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Sam shut the door and turned back to the wider apartment. Her eyes instantly landed on the pale, sick redhead clad in only her underwear. “What’s going on?” She croaked out.

Garrus was  _ so  _ dead.


End file.
